


Alliance

by howelllesters



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Angst, Depression, Hopeful Ending, Mental Health Issues, based on phanart, dealing with depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-23
Updated: 2016-07-23
Packaged: 2018-07-26 07:43:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7565839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/howelllesters/pseuds/howelllesters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You know now why they call it feeling blue.” Based on incredible art from ren-sei.tumblr.com (linked in the notes) - I would just like to add a disclaimer that this is my interpretation of Ren’s artwork, and in no way reflects their ideas when it was first created.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Alliance

You know now why they call it  _ feeling blue _ .

You don’t notice the blue; it creeps up on you, seeks you out, wraps you up in the warm embrace you’d been silently crying out for, and until now you’d thought blue was cold, but you were wrong.

Too late you realise that the blue has consumed you, and the gentle hug leaves you gasping for air, and you’re drowning and you want to fight but there’s a tiny, oh ever so small, part of you that would be satisfied with losing.

Once upon a time, you were a burning red.

Now on a good day you barely muster pink, and on a bad, you submit to the indigo. 

It’s easier; easier than trying to claw back the red and be the person you once were, because it wouldn’t be real anyway. The old red was laughter and passion, and now it would just be the marks left behind by your frantic nails.

You wonder what you would look like to someone who could see beneath the layers you bury yourself in, your frantic, desperate attempts to prove that you are fine,  _ you’re fine  _ \- whether you’re proving that to them or just trying to pretend to yourself nowadays, you don’t know. You wonder what someone would find if they peeled back those flimsy covers that you hold on so tightly to.

Perhaps it would be achingly mesmerising.

Perhaps you are not a mess, the abandoned artist’s palette you feel you must be. Perhaps you are a watercolour, perhaps the colours melt into one another, helped along by the raincloud that constantly hovers nearby. Perhaps they do not battle, the way it feels they do every day; perhaps they live in harmony, and maybe there’s someone out there who can see that and can promise you that eventually you will feel that harmony too.

Or it would be a stain on a canvas that hurts to look at, and that is more akin to the feelings that devour you from the moment you open your eyes through to the darkness of the early hours, where every thought is more alive and more frightening.

The blue has already left its mark on your heart. 

There, the red and the blue no longer fight, they no longer do anything. They do not exist.

They have joined forces, a beautiful, terrible, violet alliance, and you feel both of them there with every beat, the pressure of which makes you beg for the beat to stop, even to just pause, in those midnight moments where nothing is real and anything seems possible.

The inner calm you longed for when they finally entangled did not happen. Violet is violent, and your self-destruction is evident, if only to you. Your heart, already so withered from the constant tumbling of your thoughts, has started to wilt, and you only wish you could catch the petals to try and fix yourself.

But you do not. You watch them fall, and you do nothing, and maybe it was not your wish at all.

Everything feels too much.

The blue is crawling up your chest, wrapping its soft fingers around your neck, trickling from your hairline into your eyes, where it stays, refusing to leave even as you plead with yourself to cry, to shout, to react in any way to the invasion of the blue, to the defeat of the red.

Your hands clutch your hair in despair and you mouth a silent scream, afraid you might choke on the sound that isn’t there. No one can hear a silent scream, and that is the point, but you still hope it reaches someone anyway.

But everything ends eventually.

Just as you reach the moment of truth, the moment where you have run out of air from screaming into the silence and from the blue hands around your neck, the moment where you have the chance to succumb and let yourself fall into the void, endlessly falling but finding a bittersweet relief there, just as you reach that moment, it ends.

The blue retreats, and you can breathe again, and sometimes you even feel a spark of red. Not enough for you to believe the red even has a chance of winning right now, but maybe enough for you to trust it might win in the end.

You sit back, exhausted, and you smile to yourself, because even as you gaze at your reflection, that swirling sea of scarlet and sapphire, you know you are the only one who can see it. You long for someone to unravel you, but you are too afraid to get close enough for anyone to even touch you.

You suffer alone, and you watch the petals drop, and that is that.

Feelings are fleeting though, and you have to hope that  _ feeling blue  _ is like that too, you have to hope that the red keeps fighting for you even when you plead with it to give up.

You have to hope.

**Author's Note:**

> so that was… a thing. i really just wanted to write something different, show a side of my writing i hadn’t shown before? i’m not sure if i achieved that, but i certainly feel calmer in myself for having gotten this out of my system. i suppose i’m partly in this place myself at the moment, and writing it out can be very therapeutic. as ever, thank you for reading, and a huge thank you to ren for letting me run wild with their beautiful artwork. you can show it some love [here](http://ren-sei.tumblr.com/post/146366156363) <3


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